Loverboy (PERCABETH AU)

Chapter 9

Percy POV

By Monday, things were back to normal. Or, well, "Percy-normal," which meant dodging late bells, managing to annoy at least three teachers without actually trying, and apparently making half the female population at Goode High laugh without meaning to.

It's not like I'm trying to flirt — seriously, I'm not — but for some reason, if I make a joke or give someone a smile, people start assuming things. Take homeroom, for example.

"Percy, can you pass me a pen?" Emily from the row over asked.

I slid one across the desk. "Sure. But it's my lucky pen, so if you win the lottery or ace a pop quiz, I expect at least partial credit."

She grinned. "Deal."

Or in Spanish class, when Mia tripped over her own backpack strap and I caught her elbow before she face-planted.

"Careful," I said, smirking. "We're supposed to be learning the language, not practicing hospital vocabulary."

She laughed so hard she nearly did trip again.

Annabeth didn't say anything about it, but I caught her glancing over once or twice in that way she does — like she's deciding if she wants to roll her eyes or stab me with her pencil. (For the record, I think she usually chooses both.)

By lunch, word was already going around that the swim team's first competition of the season was that afternoon. Goode High's pool isn't anything fancy, but it's home turf, and I always like the advantage of knowing the exact feel of the water.

After last period, I headed to the locker room. The smell of chlorine hit me the second I walked in — familiar, almost comforting. Coach Miller was already barking orders, clipboard in hand.

"All right, Jackson, you're in the 200-meter freestyle and the 4x100 relay. Warm up and don't do anything stupid."

"Me? Stupid? Never," I said, earning a few laughs from the guys.

The bleachers started filling up fast once we got to the pool. I spotted Jason, Piper, and Leo in the front row, waving like lunatics. And yeah, Annabeth was there too — pretending she wasn't watching, but her eyes followed me when I stepped up to stretch.

The whistle blew for the first event, and I hit the water like it was second nature. Swimming's the one place my ADHD doesn't trip me up — the water's all motion and rhythm, and I can just... move. No distractions, no noise, just me and the lane.

The 200-meter freestyle went smooth. My strokes felt strong, my turns were clean, and by the last lap, I knew I was ahead. I touched the wall, heard the buzzer, and looked up to see the scoreboard: first place.

The relay was trickier. We were up against Westfield High, and their anchor was fast. Like, annoyingly fast. But when my turn came, I dove in and didn't think about anything except catching him. Stroke, breathe, stroke — and somehow, I did. We won by less than half a second.

The place erupted. Coach Miller clapped me on the shoulder, muttering something about "good work" that for him was basically a full-on emotional outburst.

When I climbed out, dripping and exhausted, Annabeth was standing near the edge of the bleachers. She didn't clap or cheer — just gave me this small, approving smile that, for some reason, felt better than any medal.

The meet ended with our team on top — not to brag (okay, maybe a little), but my last leg in the relay sealed it. The cheering, the clapping, the whole sweaty team-hug thing — it was great, but I was ready to breathe air that didn't smell like chlorine.

By the time I changed and grabbed my bag, most of the crowd had already cleared. Annabeth was waiting by the double doors, hands in her jacket pockets like she'd been there a while. She didn't say much when I walked up, just fell into step beside me.

We cut across the lot toward my car, the pavement still damp from an earlier rain. The air smelled faintly of saltwater — weird for the city, but I wasn't complaining.

"You were good out there," she said, her voice casual, but there was something underneath it.

"Thanks," I said, tossing my bag over my shoulder. "I try."

A couple steps later, she glanced sideways at me. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you ever get jealous of your exes?"

I slowed a little, blinking at her. "My exes?"

She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her eyes stayed on the wet asphalt. "You're... really friendly with them. Katie, Rachel, whoever else. Doesn't that get weird for you?"

I shook my head, a small smile tugging at my mouth. "No. They've got their own lives now, and I respect that. Whatever we had, it's in the past. If they're still good people, why wouldn't I treat them like it?"

She didn't answer right away, just kept walking like she was trying to decide if she believed me.

"But like do you never get like sad or upset or even cry about them" she said retorting

"Uh not really, to be honest I can't remember the last time I cried." I responded

"Seriously you never cried before????!" She said shocked

"Not that I can recall Wise Girl" I said calmly

"What about like when you were a kid and a toy broke, or if you got hurt playing??"

"If one of my toys broke, I just did something else instead, and if I got hurt I just put medicine or a bandaid over it" I said with a chuckle

Then she said something that hit hard

 "Then what about when your dad died?"

I paused and looked at her

"Shit, sorry Seaweed Brain" she said regretfully

I sighed "When my dad died, I was barely a baby, everyone cries when they were a kid right, so the tears from that might have just gone up with the others" 

"Don't you ever miss him?" She asked carefully

"I would but my Mom raised me so that I wouldn't miss him, plus Paul and Stella are great so, I don't miss him as much, but obviously there's sometimes." I said 

She smiled and I smiled back

I started to smirk.

"Also why'd you ask about my exes" I asked after a beat. "You jealous?"

Her head whipped toward me. "What? No!"

"Uh-huh. Sure." I smirked.

She gave me a shove that almost made me trip over a parking line. "You're impossible."

"Thanks," I said, grinning.

We reached my Prius, and she stopped, leaning back against the hood like she wasn't in a hurry to leave. Her eyes flicked up to mine for a second before she said, "Good meet today."

"Thanks, Wise Girl," I said without thinking.

Her brow furrowed. "What did you just call me?"

"Nothing," I said quickly, unlocking the car. "Get in before I change my mind about giving you a ride."